Redamancy
by blurrywrote
Summary: ( n. ) the act of love returning / reapertale frans. hades/persephone dynamics breathe life into me dear jesus. rated m for some smut on ch 2 / cover image by @kamilecn !
1. Chapter 1

Snowdrops and sweet peas bloom in Mother's gardens when she leaves, Winter's kiss melting upon the earth as Spring reveals its sweet scent behind the clouds, warm sun and soil and skin. It is with these flowers that she walks free on the surface again, bare feet remaining spotless as she trekked through the blooming grounds toward her home. Her mother and queen awaited her, arms open and chest warm with love, and it was the soft caresses that the patroness missed dearly━and it was within this familiar place that she suddenly longed for the touch of _another_.

How foolish she had been, like a mortal girl with blood and tears shed by a torn heart, to think that she been anything but free when she was with _him_.

And now, with Winter visiting again, there are different flowers blooming and cyclamens in her joined hands. Her mother's disapproval still stung, but neither would see eye to eye on this contract between her and the god who resided underneath their realm. The yellow buds in her silken hair fell, petal by petal, but she was resilient as she ever was and took each step forward with her chin up.

She had pleaded with her goddess, to still her divine hand against the man who had more than just her child's name _( he has my unclaimed soul, he has my beating heart )_ . It was clear as the day, red stars in her eyes, that Toriel did not agree with this affair nor did she want to be persuaded.

As if there is anything to convince me, she had said.

The other patrons were silent; Patience, Justice, Integrity, Kindness, Perseverance and Bravery, all quiet but without judgement. And they had watched as Mercy grew her own flowers, delicate perfume hiding an unbound strength; she made her own plans, did not recite her prayers as much, and made a decision with another god based on her own desires.

It was so human, they think, but they all once had more than just ichor beneath their flesh. So they did not try to stop Mercy from leaving. She had her own light, they could see, a forming star that would not stop to outshine the rest. She was unchained, though their goddess cannot see it, and she was leaving by her own will, not because she had to.

Toriel loved all her children and could not lose any more, and Mercy knew this as they all did.

"My goddess, I will bring him with me. And then, I hope, you will understand."

The patroness of Hope has had her seat empty around the hearth of the goddess's alter for a long time, but Toriel caught the scent of buttercups in the air and felt something squeezing her shoulder, calmly indicating to let Mercy go.

A tear slid down pristine white fur. "You just come back to me, Frisk. Please."

And she will, she promised she will. But there was a god waiting for her, uncertain that she'd even arrive, and Frisk would reassure him as well.

She does not walk for long, already seeing her carrier approach, and she greets him with a fond smile.

"Hello, Papyrus."

The tall skeleton's empty sockets shone with excitement as she neared. His brother would be happy.

"DEAR MAIDEN, YOU KEPT YOUR PROMISE!"

Of course she would. Though she had given nothing away other than her word, she was still told that naught of havoc would be brought to anyone if she did not arrive here to be escorted. She trusted him━he rarely made promises, let alone to a near mortal. But she was not much a human anymore, and she will not disappoint him.

Frisk had thought this god as cold, but she was able to really see him. And she was captivated. Enthralled in this world. She'd even wish for Winter to last longer.

He had a strong presence, she could feel him already and her skin would have crackled like the sparks of a starting fire. She breathed in steadily, her appearance in this dark realm bringing forth a strange life.

As she walked alongside her guard (he liked being called that, so he had told her), flowers sprang in any cracks; the blooms like the ones in her hand appeared, accompanied by alyssums, winter jasmines, pansies and violets. They thrived at her feet, none crushed by her gentle steps, and even traveled way ahead. The souls who witnessed this were startled, but continued to stare in awe, Frisk's aura something alluring.

Though maybe not as pure as when she first came here. But that did not bother her. It made her grin. Here, she was both life and death, bones and thorns among the flowers of her crown. Here, she ate the fruit with open lips and smiling teeth. Here, the world bowed at her. Here, they sought for her grace and compassion in this place of despair. Here, she made a god go on his knees and not once had he sought to have her worship him. It was the other way around, it had _always_ been.

He craved her, pursued her, and by all the dear stars in heaven, she fell.

She was stilled by Papryus with his gloved hand at her elbow, three giant skulls suddenly circling them. She recognized them as they did her, their sniffs making her dress flutter and wrap around her legs. She pats one on the head and then they all want to be cuddled, and she giggles at their nudges. But there was someone else she wanted to greet, and she asked them of his whereabouts.

Papyrus motioned at her with a wave as he accompanied the hounds down another corridor. "FOLLOW WHAT BIDS YOU FORWARD, DEAR MAIDEN."

 _My unclaimed soul._

Frisk cannot stop the rapidly increasing rhythm in her rib cage, it bid her feet to go faster. But she would be calm, or as calm as her fluttering nerves allowed it. She reaches his chambers, giant lit gas lamps hanging from chains on the ceiling, blue white fire playing its shadows on the gold black marble pillars. Her steps echoed through the halls, and she sees that the flowers reached this room as well.

 _My beating heart._

He's there, with the foot of his robes surrounded by blooms and he stares down at them with an eased mind. He turns, the lights of his eyes like burning cosmos and they brighten when they reach her. The flowers in her hands are noticed, and his fingers twitch.

What a perfect image of a bride.

She opens her full lips, his name spills from them like an answer. His grin felt easy, but he still did not move forward. He had waited, and it felt like an _eternity_ since he last saw her, but he did not want her to run from him again. He would take this slow. And steady. Like those mortals who already had such little time in their aging bodies.

"So," he began, hands held in front of him, like how her own still holding the bouquet of cyclamens. _How fitting._ "You came. And did you think carefully... of my offer?"

There was a small glint to her eyes, the brown of her irises reminding him of the earth's rich soil, how warm and inviting. Her entire being was melted and forged from a drop of the Sun, he was sure of it.

The corners of her mouth curled playfully and with the blunt of her pearly teeth she clicked her tongue. "Shouldn't me being here be obvious enough, silly Reaper?"

"Hey now," he crosses his arms, the brow of his bone raising slightly but his smile remained. "Watch what you say. It is a god you speak with."

"And it is with your queen that _you_ speak with."

His sockets widen, his shoulders laxing as arms came undone and open. "You really wish to be with me, then?"

The woman nods, now moving forward. "Yes. I do, Sans. Now," her hands are reaching for him, arms circling his neck and his own move on their own accord to lay his palms flat on her back, "stop talking and fondle your beloved wife."

"Demanding already."

He didn't care, he was enjoying this, he had been _aching_ for this, and had honestly not seen it becoming true. Bony digits stroked against her soft skin, brushing back her hair, his head tilting forward to meet with hers, and he breathed her in. She still smelled of Spring. Even down here, she _glowed_.

Oh this was surely a dream, and he prays to not be awakened from it.

A god of death, _begging_. For some reason he believes it does not matter, as long as it was for her. Always for her.

"My mother also waits to meet you."

She says this as if it would dissuade him. Sans would not be so easily regretful. He doesn't think he could ever be. No, not with Frisk. _Her soul. Her beating heart._ All his to cherish until the end of his days, until the universe collapsed.

He rubs her head with his skull and chuckles heartily, grabbing her hand and pressing her slender fingers against his smooth cheek. "Looking forward to it."


	2. Chapter 2

The bed creaks like it hasn't before, sheets torn and pillows tossed, the smell of her sweat and perfume staining the mattress and his drapes, along with her dress he teared off only moments before – and he was still so greedy, _still not satisfied_. He thrusts relentlessly, she moans and holds him oh-so-tight, his eye-lights boring into her burning gaze, and _what a delicious expression!_

Her lips ( now bare of the dark balm from the scraping of her teeth, from the pressing of her mouth to her stifling palm ) were open and her pretty voice sang out, it was _so damn intoxicating_ he just wanted to drown his senses into it. And along with her darkened stare, the heat of her cheeks and breath, her skin hot and melding into his form – _fuck_ , he couldn't get enough. Not even when she couldn't speak properly, words slipping and fumbling past one another, her fingers digging into his robes and clutching the back of his skull to move him closer, close, close, close, and _still not close enough_.

She felt just as frustrated, she wanted _more_ , though wouldn't _beg_ it from him, she'd _demand_ it, and she could get him to do anything, and everything – even letting her go, he'd plead all he can but in the end he'd let her go. _But not here, not right now_. Not when she felt so good, not when his voice seemed to make her skin prick like hot steel, not when she let him grind in between her thighs and her hips wouldn't help but to move with him, not when she'd tilt her chin up and allow him to lick and bite into her neck.

He huffs, fingers gently brushing her hair as it stuck to her olive skin, soft languid movements of his hands a vast difference from the sharp thrusts from beneath. Frisk doesn't mind, she only ever takes, and _gives_. Her legs wrap around him, one raised over his spine and he groans as his head drops to her shoulder, inhaling her fragrance and recalling how her slender digits had dotted her skin with the oils she was gifted with. None could be as sweet as her. Nothing could _taste_ as sweet as her.

"Oh, gods," she cries out again, making Sans grunt and slowing down before he eased himself out. The woman whines as he leans his torso up to look down at her with a grin. He'd lick that pout of hers if he didn't think it was so cute. "Why, in all forsaken stars, have you _stopped?_ "

The reaper moves his hands, squeezing her thighs before pulling her legs up near her naked chest, satisfied that she easily flexed under his weight. He enjoys the view, for one second was all it took to keep this memory stashed into his mind for the upcoming lonely days, and his grin widens when he sheathes himself back inside her warm folds. Her eyes widened at the new position but she did not retreat. Sans exhaled, shakily and slowly as his pelvis, then began to move though not as rough as before. She pulls on his robe, it makes his hood slip off and he rolls his shoulders to make the pins come undone and have the rest slide down to pool at his knees, his ribs exposed to the confined air.

Frisk bites her lower lip. "Please–"

"Please _what?_ " That sounded more expectant than agitated, though his phalanges dug into the skin of her legs, encouraging her voice to rise while his own began to echo at the effect of his lust. "Just who do you think you're calling out to, girl?"

She opens her lips to speak, he pulls out, she frowns in frustration, then she yelps when he moves in again, and fast. "You," Frisk gasps, quick tears surfacing to her lashes. "Only you."

"That's right, no other god is here with you, only me." He shifts again, indicating her to steady herself, but she only looks on eagerly. _Such a good queen he has_. "Just me, and you, Frisk."

Gone were the shallow thrusts, deep and ravaging rhythm accompanying her increasing screams. He hears himself moaning with her, his own words slurred as he focuses on nothing but her, how she lays now deflowered on his bed, the sheets balled in her fists. His name spills out of her lips, again and again, a chant, a cry, a prayer, and finally, _finally_ , he was near, she arches her back, they were edging right on the brim, bursting and on fire and falling, falling, falling stars, in his vision and on her tongue as he lowers to kiss her and taste the fallen constellations on a soft flowerbed.

He felt the last of her moans in his open mouth, symphony to the end of this passionate song, his movements slowing, slowing, and twitching out at last. She breathes out a sigh, content and cool breeze on his bones. Sans hums when he rests his head on her chest and she embraces him, a hand at his skull and tracing shapes of what he thinks are petals of a flower. He could hear her heartbeat, calming down as the minutes past. He loved the sound of it. He loved all the sounds she makes, he decides that now, especially when he is the cause of them.

Frisk's knuckles scrape his head once, bringing him away from his thoughts, and he only pokes her side to confirm he was still awake.

"Sans."

"Mm."

"Use that voice more often. On me."

He can't help but to snort, his fingers probing her sides and she giggles. "Don't make me start with you again, Frisky." He stops tickling in favor of holding her, warm joy a once rare guest in his soul. Sans relaxes against his wife, eye sockets closing and smile remaining. "But I will remember that."


End file.
